The Truth About Traverse Town
by january blue
Summary: An unfairytale in which Yuffie complains about Squall, Leon, Traverse Town, Leon, ducks, pumpkins.. and Leon. [ & just keep laughing ..]
1. Lions and Logs

one **• **_lions and logs_

Isn't that the crazy girl who keeps stealing my underwear? «**hypothetical squall leonheart**»

× **go** ..

A yawn sounded throughout our small room. I sat up slowly, squinting against the sun. I could stretch, moan, move, and cause nuclear holocausts as much as I wanted. I could guarantee you, the man on the left side of the bed wouldn't notice. He never did. Now, now, before I get miles ahead of myself, I'll have you know that we weren't "together" or anything of the like. That's just...you know...a bit..._ew. _Beyond all reason and laws of physics. …And you know, _ew. _Squall smells like old pumpkins.

I cast an annoyed look at the brunette lying beside me. My the-world-is-against-me-no-one-understands-o-m-g-angst! radar was blaring in my ear. Of course _I _was stuck with him. There simply weren't enough beds. Aerith (our other friend or companion or healer angel lady...dude... girl-man... hah.) had insisted on having her own room for reasons unknown to us at the time (I still think that she wears _Pull Ups_) and we couldn't afford another hotel room even if there _was _one available.

We had originally switched off sleeping on the king sized bed, every other night. But whoever had to sleep on the floor often had stiff muscles in the morning, and that was no condition for a town guard against the Heartless. This caused many arguments and eventually toppled our fragile tower of cooperation. (Not that there was one in the first place. See, in order for a tower to exist, a couple of people have to _build _it. Implying friendship, or at least being civil. Meaning, in a word: No.)

I ended up sharing a bed with a big, angry, stoic, angst-ridden log.

…I truly am amazing, you know.

I sighed and lifted the sea foam comforter from my thin legs. The similarities between the two (him and the log) were uncanny. They talked the same amount: 0 words per minute. The probably felt about the same—no—cough, cough—I believe I nearly told a lie— scratch that. The _log _had more feelings than him. I snorted and folded one of those legs beneath me. My finger slowly made its way to that log of a man and poked him hard. If anything, the roar that was his snoring only got louder.

Like I said before; he slept like a log. Of course, it _was _a little difficult to imagine a log sprawled out on our unkempt green bed making enough noise to set off any near-by car alarms or mad old ladies with rolling pins. The wet pink tongue hanging out of his mouth and small puddle of drool forming under it didn't exactly help.

No, I decided firmly, he didn't sleep like a log. He slept... like a lion; a lion with a sleep disorder. (His lion sleeping reminded me mildly of being utterly against the laws of nature.) By day a chunk of wood, by night a feline with breathing problems. My face drooped into a blank expression. Watch out Superman.

And so, to make a long ranting short, _that, _my friends, is how I, Yuffie Kisargi, was stuck rooming with a temperamental; sleep apnatic lion-log named Leon...

And you haven't heard the half of it.

I pushed back the thick white headband to reveal a pair of chocolate colored eyes staring back at me through the mirror. I had always liked my eyes. They were big, and innocent looking; it made for great lying skills. There was a little bit of almost black fringe surrounding them and towards the middle they were amber. Of course, that was the only part of my appearance I _did _like… I mean, you try living your whole life with Aerith and at Hollow Bastion, Tifa and Rinoa… It gives a big ol' blow to the self-esteem, it does.

Yep. So compared to the freakishly beautiful people I was surrounded with, I was an ugly duckling. I lived with _Aerith, _and _everyone's _beauty pales in comparison to hers. Heck, Squall was prettier than me. And believe me, he was _pur-tay. _One of those girly-men. He should put some mascara on those insanely long eyelashes of his... Hah. Anyway, I heard somewhere that woman are more attracted to men with feminine features… If so, I am, as of late, very surprised that Squall didn't have a rabid fan-club following him everywhere he went.

I let my hand brush against the cool glass that contained my unruly reflection. It was hanging haphazardly on the wall next to the bed I had just gotten off of. I was still in my P.J.s and my hair, which I hadn't washed in a while, was jutting out in a thousand different directions at once. I pulled on my clothes and then set to work on my little orange gloves.

A strange noise, somewhere between a snort, a moan, and a gurgle announced the waking of Leon. A….. smurgle…? I rolled my eyes and let the glove upholstered hand fall limp at my side. "'Mornin', Squall."

A muffled, "It's Leon!" came from his blanket covered head; hiding from the light. I 'tsk'ed and shook my head, whirling to face him.

"What? Did the Heartless brainwash ya, or something?" I taunted, hands on knees, face in face. "The light is _good, _remember?"

He groaned.

"You suck."

Curse that Aerith and her big watery green eyes. Making _me _wake him up in the morning. So, naturally, being the obscenely great ninja that I am, I grabbed the first thing that came into my vision, which happened to be a pickle.

I'm going to answer your question before you ask it. No, I'm not physic. I've just been asked a million times. It's kind of a funny story—well, not really—but...yeah...I am awesome.

See, I've always liked pickles...

Funny story, huh?

Anyways, I pulled back his covers and, after surveying his bird's/squirrel's/ew-don't-wanna-know-what-that-is's nest of a head, I whacked him with the pickle, smelling the crisp, sour fumes. I hit him again, "Ah… I love the smell of dill in the morning…"

THWACK

"Yuffie?"

THWACK

"Yuffie!"

THWACK

There was suddenly a hand on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear about something concerning "Pickled cucumbers" and "all burnt."

Well, that just _maybe_ got my attention. I turned slowly still holding the green produce, ready for assault. My eyes met the aforementioned, big—though not watery at the time—green ones. In fact, they looked really... _terrifying._

I gave a few nervous "heh"s and scratched the back of my neck. "H-hey there, Aerith! Good... morning?" She flipped her long dirt-colored braid over her shoulder. Did she ever take that thing out? For as long as I could remember, I had never seen the flower girl with her hair down. That's… strange. I'll bet she has a big fat bald spot right in the middle of her head.

"What are you doing?" she tapped her booted foot on the floor, emitting a muffled thud.

I looked around, formulating a plan, "Um… me speaky no English?" It was a long shot…. A _very _long shot. Like, to Hollow Bastion and back, long. But a girl could try, couldn't she?

"Yuffie, that may be the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life." And the lesson, children, is that you should never try too hard.

I folded my arms across my stomach defensively, "Hey! You try waking up that...that..." Searching for a horrible insult, I hesitated. "Man!" Not what I had in mind, but... not... bad...

Aerith pursed her lips and gently tapped Squall's shoulder, which was once again hidden by that aqua comforter.

"Leon——"

"OH MAH _GAWD!_" a deliriously shrieking voice cut the flower girl off. There was a salvo of simultaneous flashes that nearly blinded me, and—after blinking away all the colorful spots and things that looked suspiciously similar to Smurfs away—a bright red face came into view. Frizzy brown hair surrounded the red face, and hazel eyes shone (starry) in the middle of it. I winced. So, Squall _did _have his own fan club after all. Great.

It was... the sushi lady of certain death and destruction!

Also known as, "Isn't that the crazy girl who keeps stealing all my underwear? She's always asking for money." "Leon, you really should learn the name of the manager." "Omigawd! Where are my bunny slippers? She's _so _gettin' a shuriken in the back of the head when I'm not too lazy to go after her!"

...Or, in fact, Shyree, manager of the Hotel. And in love with Squall to boot.

Obsessed, really. It was kind of creepy.

'Kind of' being a relative term.

"He has no shirt on! OH MY GAWD!" she ran over to the sleeping form of my roommate with her sweatshirt hood flapping along behind. One hand on the bare chest that I had the immense pleasure of poking every so often and she was out.

As in... _passed out._

"Shyree?" asked Aerith worriedly, rushing over to her and bending over.

I too bent over the small girl. "Is she... like... dead?"

She looked to simply be in shock, her eyes were tightly shut and she was clutching her camera like it was her life force. Which, then again, it may have been. "She's fine," replied Aerith with a puzzled sound to her voice, observing Shyree's delirious grin with a cluck of her tongue. "She'll wake up soon!" she said brightly, clasping her hands and picking up where she left off. With another tap on Squall's shoulder, she asked, "Will you wake up please, Leon?"

The big lump shifted and fell still. I smirked haughtily. (If I couldn't do it, _no one could!_) But then a callused hand emerged from the opening in the top that _I, _I noticed with a silent laugh, made; followed by an arm, and then a shoulder, head and chest. The whole complex, that was most likely Leon, sat up. "Morning Aerith… What time is it?" My smirk disappeared.

Of course. Of _course, _he wakes up for _her. _I shook my head. If I ever did that, he would roll over and then give me weird looks all day—claiming that I was "on drugs" and asking if I "was still practicing abstinence". Yah, whatever. (That is if he _ever _woke up.) Aerith just had that _effect. _She could make any man do anything for her. (This is not to taken lightly, considering that Squall was such a girly-man. Or is the correct term, _metrosexual? _Girly is better.) And all she had to do was ask nicely.

_Jealous...? Me? _

..Shut up.

All I got was some muscles; a happy smile and the ability to dress up like a boy and actually look like one. She _was_ the flower; not just a flower girl. So delicate and pretty… but if you're allergic and you get too close: deadly. Allergic or Sephiroth. Aerith, if given the opportunity, would _totally _kick Sephiroth's girly silver ass.

Have I mentioned that many of the men I know are girly?

Aerith gave me one of those overrated honey smiles and pranced back into her room. Her look, before she disappeared through the dividing door, clearly said, 'That's how it's done.'

"It's eight-thirty," I answered Leon's question sourly as he settled back into the bed and prepared to pull the covers over his head. I looked down at the girl at my feet, poking her with my toe, and noticing that there was a hole in my sock. Shyree twitched and I sighed.

I quickly put on a sly grin, "And you'd better get ready, or I'll shave your legs while you sleep." I watched with some kind of sick satisfaction as, in flash of godly, shirtless light, grumbled past me and, trying to get his clothes out from under Shyree, fell over, where I stepped happily over them and out into bright summer sunlight of Traverse Town.

Now, _that's _how it's done.

× **intermission** ..

There were two moons in Traverse Town. One came out at night, and looked like most moons on most worlds. It had a bluish glow that reflected off of ponds and showed much longer than the actual night should have lasted, trying to hold on to its visibility so it wouldn't fade away altogether. It seemed sad and it sulked constantly. Iridescent tears falling and becoming the stars that people wish on. It hid from the sun and became so jealous that it grew thin and sharp, tearing the sky.

And then, there was the other. It came out during the day, and was never too far from the bright yellow sun. It had the color of fire, trying to be the second sun and luring the night moon into the day sky. Sometimes that sad moon came out—a dim silver in the daylight—and sometimes it stayed in the darkness with its tears. And the great orange moon never seemed come into the night to get it. I always assumed it was afraid of the dark.

× **on with the show** ..

Squall soon followed me with an 'I-may-kill-you-if-you-ever-move-ever-again-..ever' look on his face. I was slightly afraid of this look. Mostly though, I was terrified that his little girlfriend would follow us. And kill me for being female.

Aah... so many death threats, so little time.

I didn't wish to die, my friend. I had already made up my mind to die by piano to the head. I would be in newspapers and the rest is future..istory, I suppose.

Squall growled, taking a violent hold of my upper arm and forcing me to go faster. "She's following us, you know." He may have had no idea that his hand was like some kind of mutant vampire vice-grip come back from the dead to haunt all those who offended its master by leaving said master in hotel rooms with scary obsessed little girls who are in love with people twice their age.

_Wow_. He needed to get a clue.

That is one _long_ title.

Coming out of my daydream, I realized that Squall was still angrily muttering into my ear, tightening his grip with every word. I rolled my eyes and caught the wrong part of the rant. "...is a sick freak! She was about to forcibly rape my hair—"

I cut him off there by ripping my arm out of his hands and saying, "Don't _touch_ me! I'll call child services on you; you evil, scary man!" I really, _really _didn't want to hear about Squall's hair's... _endeavors_. You don't even know the meaning of shudder until you think long and hard about that one.

Grossness.

He looked slightly shocked when I pulled away, sticking out my tongue happily. Though, I doubt that he was shocked because of anything I did. More shocked that he had not avoided physical contact as if it might give him boils and set his balls on fire... forever. He was always mad at himself for one thing or another, right? "Whatever... let's just go get some breakfast..." Translation: I'm so famished I think I might _die _from the horridness of it!

"Yeah, yeah... You're paying today." Translation: Omi_gawd _Squall! I want to have your sexy babiessss!

_And, _I thought later, taking a bite out of my pancakes and watching in amusement as Shyree chased Squall around the Café with a pair of scissors, _I think today might be interesting_

× **pause** ..

• _&_ the **slug **said: - Welcome to _The Truth About Traverse Town! _I hope you enjoy the crazy-ness and random-ness and overall Squffie-ness! It's quite fun to write!

Don't hate me! It had to be done. Er... gah... I'm just deleting the other version... and it makes me cringe to do so, but I have to. HAVE TO. I'm sorry if you have a problem with it, but I think... that I'm going to miss all my reviews. —sob—

Review and I'll make Yuffie shave Squall's legs for all to see.

Don't kill me, Tally-chan! O.O

**J.BLUE  
**(m)

—_D_**i**_SCLA_**i**_MER/CLA_**i**_MER_— all material that is recognizable as a character, place, or concept from Kingdom Hearts or any other Final Fantasy game is © to Squaresoft. However, all characters, places and concepts that are not identifiable are © to JanuaryBlue, and I would prefer you didn't use said material in your own stories without my consent. Once you've got the consent, you can mock my disclaimer shamelessly and laugh at me until the dawn is dead. Good luck with that. Tootles.


	2. My Yoda Duck

two **• **_my yoda duck_

..and give the nice fluffy white feathers to Squall to make a new boa-unmanly-accessory for his stupid girly leather jacket! «**yuffie kisaragi**»

× **go** ..

_Once upon a time in a Café across the way... there was a mostly female ninja in great distress._

_She waited for a knight in shining armor, but all she had was Squall._

My right eye twitched dramatically, and a slightly manic grin flashed across my lips. It was the kind of smile that looks like, 'Oh happy day!' but means, 'I hope you die!' It was the kind of smile that makes children cry and grandmas look down at my small Yuffie-self in shame, muttering, "The children these days, fo shizzle." My eye twitched again and a sigh wormed its little wormy way out of my chest. I don't usually let the wormy kind of sighs live in my chest. _Gross_ness.

And you _may_ wonder why I was acting so abnormal.

It seemed to be that I was the only person in the town with a hint of moral fiber.

The people around me ate with what was left of their families and some with new friends, but they didn't seem to think about what they ate, or where they ate it. There were loads of people that night, but I had arrived early.

I smiled politely up at the pink-haired waitress standing over me. Her pale skin was blinding me with its blemish free-ness. "I'm sorry," I said, "But, I can't eat this." I pointed at my plate and grimaced slightly, trying with all my heart trying not to barf. Because, really, I didn't want to offend the poor girl, even if she was glowering down at me with one pierced eyebrow raised and her arms folded impatiently across her chest.

She let her dark black eyes wander over the plate and shrugged like it was no big deal or something. (_NO BIG DEAL? _Inner-child-Yuffie screamed. _I'LL SHOW YOU A BIG DEAL IN WAYS THAT YOU DON'T EVEN _WANNA _KNOW! _And Inner-child-Yuffie screamed and screamed until all the waitresses died and I came spiraling back into reality.) "You ordered it," she replied dully, chewing on her piece of gum with half a smirk. She pointed at the dish with her pen. "Dead stuff usually doesn't order itself, you know, girl."

I blinked.

Twice, I blinked.

The girl continued to raise her pierced eyebrow. And there was a tiny blue dolphin dangling from the end of the thin piece of silver.

"Listen..." I checked the brown nametag on her black uniform absently. It said **JERBILLINI** in capital white letters. So, I while I was thinking about how strange a name that was, I continued, "Jerballini, I didn't order this and I hope you'll bring it back to your stupid, fat cook before you have to go to him and get some frickin' ice cream!" I thought I was finished, but then realized that I was quite unsatisfied with myself, "You know... cause I'm gonna hit you, and you're gonna need the ice cream to stop the swelling!" Feeling better, I smirked and picked up the plate for her, in case her bitty little girl arms couldn't take it.

I held it out and waited for a reaction; a reaction that simply wouldn't come.

In all of my ranting, her expression didn't change, and she popped her gum a few times. _Pop-pop-poppity-pop _and I was sure that she hated my little ninja anger-level, for some reason unknown to me, or, most likely, any other person in the world. The brat of a girl didn't even try to take my dinner away and just stared me in the face. Her black eyes were like freaking _drills. _They bore holes in me and just when I was about to burst and chuck the whole table at her face, she said, "My _name _is Jeralli." Her pink hair, sticking out in every direction, fell in her face a bit and she puffed at it silently.

Blink.

B l i n k.

"Wait—wha...?"

And then she walked away, flapping her too-small black skirt and muttering something about 'Global Warming in Agrabah.'

I was so confused that I didn't even try to stop her as her flapping flip-flops floomped away from my table.

You may call me slow; I just call me strange and challenged when it comes to matters of the mind. And it's true, too. After all, there are times when I can't get the image of Cid and Shera in the broom closet out of my mind. I can't get it to go away. If _that's _not a challenge, then you tell me what is.

That's what I _thought_.

But, after staring at the place where Jerbali-Jeralli-Jerla-Lulii-Lala disappeared into a door, I took a look back at my dinner, and very nearly died.

Because I was hungry, and I had juicy meat sitting before me and I _couldn't _eat it. Because, as I said before, I was the only one in the stupid town with an ounce of morality. The only one! I swear to... like... Simba or something.

Sighing again, and pulling my bright orange gloves on farther; I took my footing; picked up my plate filled with meat, lettuce, and lemons; and strode in the expert style of Humjumi-Jumhumi-REAL-NINJA-TECHNIQUE, up to the little open window at the back of the café. It was a hard thing to do, you know! With all the... stones... and... rocks...

And stones.

When I reached the windows, I placed my fingers on the gruff plaster of the counter and kicked the wall lazily. "Helloooo?" I called into the kitchen. "Anybodyyy theeeeeere? Don't hide, children! I don't bite! I just want to give you some nice shiny candy! It's red! And purple! And white! And you know you want it! You total—"

The Jaja-woman arrived at the counter, most likely afraid that I was scaring away the customers. "Yes?" she asked dryly as if I couldn't hear the edge of venom on her voice, glaring down at me, from her higher standpoint. She looked twice as intimidating when she was smirk-glaring. Let me tell you. Her every-shade-of-pink hair was glowing from the lights behind her. This strange girl, who I saw every morning, but had never really talked to until now, was looking me over like I was interesting or anything equally absurd.

I carefully leaned my elbow into her booth and off-handedly—or what probably passed off as it—pushed my plate in front of her. "You gave me duck. Deep—freaking—fried _duck._ And, that, as you may know, is a problem, seeing as I know a good few ducks. Huey, Duey, and Luey?" She kept chewing her gum and fiddling with her hair and reminding me all too much of a flamingo as I went on, "They're these cute little ducklings… and I think I may be eating their cousin… Or like… father… And what if they come and are all like, 'Our names are Huey, Duey, and Luey! You ate our father! Prepare to die!' And what will I do then? I can't fight cute little duckies and pluck them and give the nice fluffy white feathers to Squall to make a new boa-unmanly-accessory for his stupid girly leather jacket. That wannabe jacket…(I took a lot of time in getting him to take off that… weirdo faux fur stuff. Chilling, really.) But—" I stopped for a breath, "Anyway, I can't eat this! All I see is three little heads staring at me and saying random stuff in scary scratchy Yoda sounding voices!" Jaja blinked at me slowly and nodded, her head cocking to one side, deciding if I was drink or just deranged.

"Well, it's dead now. You might as well eat it." I saw her mouth quirk a little in the corners and I cracked. (Assuming that before, I was simply spontaneously combusting. Which is, when you think about it, completely different. When you spontaneously combust, there is a chance that you can be saved. When you crack, you're always going to be cracked… or at least a penguin hunter. Nobody likes penguin hunters.)

"Have you got _any_ idea how creepy it is to look at a plate and say, 'I'm sorry you're dead,' and have it reply, 'Uuuuuse the foooooooooooorce… Do not thiiiiiiiiiiiink… feeeeeeeeeeeeeeel…"? Do ya! And, lemme tell ya, true power, no matter what the stupid little dudes say, does _not_ lie within!

Then she said, "Whatever, girl," and shut the booth in my face with her eyes laughing and her hair sparkling.

**Blink.**

_B l i n k . _

"Well then," I said to the harsh brown wood before me. "If you had not been made into a door, we might have been friends."

I guessed that I wasn't getting a refund, and my shoulders slumped a little to realize it. There were still good people in the world, I tried to convince myself, they're just hiding it deftly. A little like Squall.

My orange shoe made contact with the wall one more time and then I turned on my heel and left the place with people's stares lingering on my retreating back.

But I didn't care. I had a log waiting for me.

Just remember: I will _never _eat duck. I may crack, spontaneously combust, and wet myself all at the same time. Then, if I survived, Huey, Duey, and Luey would come and cook my ass over the spit just to see me go down for killing their second cousin twice removed.

× **wait up** ..

When the orange moon sets, so does the sun. And when it comes back up, the orange moon has coaxed the crying one out of its hiding place for a while. It wants so badly to be in the light and yet, sometimes, the day moon must need comfort too.

Sometimes, it just doesn't come out at all. And that, they say, is when it has a broken heart.

I always just assumed it ate one too many burritos.

× **go on** ..

He was sitting by opening to the Waterway, (and quite feather boa-less, I might add) when I found him. His feet dangled in the water, boots set up neatly next to his hands with supported him from behind. A rare pose for a snoring lion-log with far too many girly accessories to speak of. But—surprise, surprise—I didn't exactly come for Squall, who was likely to yell in my face or at least make a snide comment so I yelled in his. I came for the food sitting next to him, with his boots.

I wrinkled my nose, hoping that they wouldn't stink up the mouth-watering Mac'n'Cheese.

Leon didn't go to the Café sometimes when it was busy (like that night) so he'd make his own food. (The only other restaurant in town was a little hole-in-the-wall Agrabahan Barbeque, you see. It was unsanitary in there.) After all, neither Aerith nor I could cook worth crap. She, because I was thinking that she was cursed. And me because I was incapable of following directions in any form. (Because Tsp., for your information, doesn't stand for: Two salty people.)

I seriously wanted Squall to dress up in an apron, but it was quite difficult to make him do anything when he constantly sharpened his huge-ass sword with a menacing look on his face.

Tch... some ninja I was.

He looked up when I sat down in a huff next to him, cold stones beneath me dirtying my long, long, utterly-too-huge socks. I think many people thought I had chronic leg fungus or something.

That's the thing about Traverse Town, you know. It's entirely too large for the small number of people that live there. So, everything that happens or someone assumed has happened travels around the town at Gummi speed. Then it echoes off the empty spaces and is distorted until it's hardly something that happened at all, but more something that people _want_ to happen, just for hope or a good laugh.

For instance, a couple of months before the Jaja incident, a rumor when through the town that Aerith and Leon were an "item." A couple of weeks after that it was _me _and Squall. Of course, with my taunting of him and telling people that he was secretly in love with me and that we were running away to Wonderland to get married, I wasn't helping our case so much. (I was hardly offended. At one point in time, it was said that Squall was caught doing dirty things in the Gizmo Shop with an _Angel Star._)

Of course, they all ignored the fact that they _knew _I begged Aerith everyday to move in with her nearly everyday. I had a sneaking suspicion that she was saving room for Cloud.

I never expected him to come back.

But then again, I never expected us to live for more than three days after we escaped Hollow Bastion either.

I sighed slightly and peeled off my own shoes and socks, dipping my feet in the chilling water. I felt rather like I'd been sitting naked in the middle Hollow Bastion's winter and rolling around, hoping that I didn't get frost bite so my feet wouldn't turn brown and fall off in front of some hungry Heartless.. But I ignored it…

After all, we'd been doing this since we arrived here when I was only five.

Squall gave me an awkward look-over and opened and closed his mouth a few times, probably trying to think of something to say. "You look awful," he mumbled finally, staring pointedly into the murky water swallowing us from the ankles.

"Better than you, Mr. My-pants-may-fall-down-at-any-moment-One-more-belt-sir Leonheart," I retorted bitterly as my stomach growled along with me. "I'm about to _die,_ Squallie! _Die!_" And when he got that mischievous look in his azure eyes, (or at least a bit less dull), I elbowed him in the bicep, adding, "Not a word from you, ya' stupid log."

He blinked into the pool and shook his head like he _wasn't _about to say I'd be better off dead, anyway.. "Whatever."

"Idiot," I replied, glaring sideways at his weirdly long brown hair.

Aren't girls from California the only girls who say 'Whatever?'

The echoing Yoda voice in my head murmured, "_The force be with you_."

And when I took his bowl of food, he didn't say a word, but the tiniest, littlest, most microscopic trace of a smile crossed his face.

× **pause** ..


End file.
